


Walk Away

by kathkin



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Season 6B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“The mission can go – go hang! I'm sick to my teeth of – of being pushed around by narrow-minded, pencil-pushing – bureaucrats.”</i> Sometimes the Doctor's had enough. Sometimes the Doctor really needs his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> For [thescarletpaperback](thescarletpaperback.tumblr.com) and [this prompt](http://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/146274714438/five-word-prompts): _great. perfect. nice. fuck this._

“Oh, wonderful,” said the Doctor, all but stamping his feet in petulant frustration. “Great. Perfect. Nice. Fuck this.”

With nary another word, he turned on his heel and marched out the door, leaving the room piled high with four weeks worth of papers and maps and plans.

“Hey – what?” Jamie gaped, not sure if he was more startled by the Doctor's sudden departure or his language. “Doctor! Wait! Where –” He raced after him – but outside, on the glistening ceramic street, the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Glancing about, Jamie saw him halfway down the road, trotting doggedly in the direction of the TARDIS.

Racing after him, he called, “where're you goin'?”

“Back to the TARDIS,” the Doctor's voice echoed back to him, flat.

“The TARDIS –”

“We're leaving.”

“You – _what_ –” Slowing, Jamie trailed behind him. “But we cannae just leave. What about the Shimeans?”

“The Shimeans can solve their own problems,” said the Doctor. “For a change.”

Between the next two cube-shaped buildings was the narrow alley where they'd left the TARDIS. Before he could turn the corner, Jamie caught the Doctor's arm and said, “but what about –” He glanced over his shoulder. “What about the mission?”

The Doctor snatched his arm out of Jamie's grasp, his eyes hard and narrow. “The mission can go – go hang!” he snapped. “I'm sick to my teeth of – of being pushed around by narrow-minded, pencil-pushing – _bureaucrats_.”

Was _that_ what this was about? In all honesty, Jamie'd half expected the Doctor to have a wee tantrum when told the Shimean council wanted to see him right away, to complain about his lack of progress for the third time in as many days – but he'd not expected this outburst.

The Doctor was stomping down the alley, into the deep shade that half-hid the TARDIS, rooting through his pockets for the key. “You're no' serious,” said Jamie.

“Of course I'm serious,” spat the Doctor.

“There's a war on, Doctor.”

“I'm well aware of that, Jamie.”

“We're supposed to be fixing this mess – we're supposed to be helping –”

“With any luck we've already given them enough of a push in the right direction.” The Doctor put the TARDIS key in the lock. “They can work it out for themselves.”

“Aye, but how many people are gonnae die first?”

The Doctor froze. His hand wobbled on the key. “That's not our problem.”

“Since _when_?”

“Since I said so!” Resolute, the Doctor turned the key and pushed the door open. The humming of the TARDIS engines spilled out into the silent alleyway. “Come along, Jamie.”

Jamie looked over his shoulder, at the habitation cubes packed with a small country's worth of people, at the high walls of the city where gunfire would rattle again by nightfall, at the gliding animals high up in the deep blue sky, oblivious; at the world hanging on a knife edge.

He shook his head.

The Doctor stared at him, blinking in mute incomprehension. “What?”

“I'm no' leavin',” said Jamie. “We came here to help and I'm no' leavin' till we're done.”

His hand still on the TARDIS key, the Doctor said, “you can't possibly hope to stop a war all by yourself.”

“Aye, mibbe not,” Jamie said, “but when this siege breaks they'll need all the help they can get.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake! Get in the TARDIS, Jamie,” said the Doctor.

Jamie shook his head.

“You're not serious!”

“You can leave if you want. I'm no' stoppin' you.”

“Jamie, you'll be killed,” said the Doctor, his voice low.

“I'll take my chances.”

Jamie turned and, slowly, walked out of the alley onto the bluish, sun-lit street. Behind him he heard a soft sound, as if the Doctor had begun to say his name and thought better of it. He heard a footstep. He heard the TARDIS door close.

He stopped. He stood frozen, his feet rooted to the smooth ground. He hadn't known a simple rattle of a wooden door could sound so – so final. He wanted so badly to run straight back, to say that he didn't mean it, that he'd only been trying to call the Doctor's bluff, that of course he'd leave Shimea if that was what the Doctor wanted –

He hadn't really thought the Doctor would let him walk away.

Looking around himself, at the blue sun, at the simple, cube-shaped buildings stacked up to the horizon, at the smooth, empty streets, Jamie breathed in a deep lungful of alien air and forced himself to start walking. He wasn't about to stand there and watch the TARDIS fade away.

The three city-blocks walk back to the Diplomatorium felt like miles. He was sure he could feel eyes on him, eyes peering out of the tiny windows, and he wondered if they knew – if they'd been watching – if they understood.

Outside the Doctor's cramped, borrowed office, the Shimean envoy was waiting. “Where is the Doctor?” she trilled.

“He, erm,” said Jamie. “He's – that is, he – he's just gone to –” She peered up at him, blinking her three misty eyes in agitation, and it was clear there was no sense in lying. He just couldn't quite get the words out. “He's, well, he's gonnae, he's decided to –”

“He is leaving us,” said the envoy.

“Aye,” said Jamie, feeling slightly sick. “He says he – well, he wishes you all the best, but he's had enough.”

Her eyes clouded still further. “Then that is his choice. We wish him well.”

That was the trouble with Shimeans. When they ought to fight, they rolled over and showed their bellies. When they ought to surrender, they fought to the bitter end. “I'm sorry.”

“And you, Jamie MacCrimmon?”

“I'm stayin',” said Jamie. “I'll help any way I can.”

The envoy spread her tiny hands. “We thank you.”

“Aye, well you're welcome.”

They stood in silence, both of them, he was sure, in equal measures acutely aware and utterly lost as to what this meant, for themselves, for Shimea.

“What will we tell the council?” said the envoy.

“You can tell them I'll see them when I'm ready and not a moment before,” said the Doctor, bobbing up at Jamie's elbow. “And while you're at it, you couldn't be a dear and fetch me the latest scout reports from the Militarium, could you?”

“Oh!” The envoy was so startled she scurried around in a quick circle. “You have changed your mind?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Evidently.”

“The council will be so grateful.”

Jamie doubted _that_ , given the gratitude the council had shown so far.

“You can tell the council they're a pack of ninnies and I'm not staying for them,” said the Doctor. 

“I shall,” said the envoy, and bless her she'd probably use his exact words. “Would you also like some tea?” she purred.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” said the Doctor, dipping a quick bow.

As the envoy hurried away, all but floating above the ground on her tiny feet, the pair of them stood in silence.

“I'm glad ye came back,” said Jamie.

“Yes, ah, well,.” The Doctor clear his throat. “Thank you.” Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he began to toy with it.

“Eh?”

“For bringing me to my senses.”

Jamie looked at his feet. “Any time.”

“Come along.” The Doctor folded away his handkerchief and clapped Jamie lightly on the shoulder. “We've got work to do.”


End file.
